


Art Thief

by cathcer1984



Series: The Thief and the Psychic [1]
Category: Psych (TV 2006), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Human, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fake Psychic Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Relationship, Thief Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathcer1984/pseuds/cathcer1984
Summary: While on holiday in Canada Stiles and Scott find themselves chasing down the renown, suave and handsome art thief, Peter Hale.
Series: The Thief and the Psychic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702054
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	Art Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Despereaux episodes of Psych. 
> 
> I promise this will be Steter. Just not yet.

It's by pure chance that Stiles sees him. A glimpse of the man's face across the ski field and Stiles hits Scott in the chest. "What?" Scott asked confused.

"I know that guy." Stiles stares hard at the man. "Where have I seen his face before?" 

Scott looks over as well, the man doesn't acknowledge them in any way whatsoever but he starts to move forward. Stiles goes through his memory banks. "Got it." Stiles says and while Scott looks at him expectantly Stiles just pulls out his phone and calls his dad. 

"Sheriff Stilinski." 

"Dad. Hey."

"Hey kiddo, how's Canada?"

Stiles looks at the white snow around them. "It's still here. You know that folder you have in your safe about the criminals that haven't been caught, the folder that I absolutely have not seen before in my life." 

"Uh huh." He sounds incredibly displeased. 

"There's a guy in there. Blue eyes, strong jaw, douchebag goatee. Name begins with a P. Parker? Pierre?" Stiles rolls his hand over as he talks, eyes still on the calmly retreating figure.

"Peter." The Sheriff says in his ear, voice hard. "Peter Hale." 

"Yes!" Stiles shouts with a fist bump. "Him. He's here dad, I'm looking right at him." 

There's a pause, Scott has edged a bit closer to Stiles that they're pressed together. "Stiles, I need you to listen to me. He's dangerous, wanted all over the world by Interpol and here by the FBI. You have to be absolutely certain and then you have to go to the police."

"He's that dangerous?" Stiles doesn't think he looks it. Peter Hale looks arrogant and charming, maybe a bit of a womanizer but not deadly. 

"He's an art thief that's never been caught. I've spent the last eight years tracking his whereabouts the best I can."

Nodding, even though his dad can't see him Stiles agrees. "Fuck. I lost sight of him. I gotta go dad, love you bye."

His dad is shouting but Stiles hangs up, with Scott clinging to his arm they make their way forward to where Stiles had last seen Peter Hale. By the hot chocolate stand. "Ooo can we-" Scott starts to ask, Stiles shuts him up with a hard glare. 

"There he is." Stiles nods in the direction of the man. He's leaning against the gift shop kiosk, eyes forward and when he catches sight of Stiles and Scott pointing at him Peter Hale quirks an eyebrow. "Yo! Peter!" Stiles shouts, and drags Scott into a run towards the man. 

Only, when they get to the kiosk Peter Hale is no longer there. He's disappeared. Whirling round Stiles can't spot him, he has no idea where the man has gone. "Fuck." He stamps his foot into the snow. 

Scott clears his throat. "Can we get some hot chocolate now?" 

*

A little over an hour later Stiles and Scott are at the British Colombia Police station telling them that he'd seen Peter Hale at the ski field. 

"I'm sorry, sir," the officer on the desk gives him a small grimace like smile, "it's not a lot to go on." 

"My name is Stiles Stilinski. I am the Head Psychic of the Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department. And I am telling you that I saw Peter Hale, and the spirits are telling me that he's here to do a job." 

Scott rolls his eyes where he's leaning against the counter, the Canadian; Roger Applebaum his name badge says, doesn't see. Glancing around Stiles looks for clues, pieces of information that he can use. There's cat hair on one of the man's sleeves but a picture of two cats on his desk. "You have two cats, Roger, the grey one is affectionate but the black one isn't big on being petted. And I want to speak to Ed." 

"Ed?" 

"Yes. The spirits feel very strongly about this, just ask Scott." Next to him, very obediently, Scott nods enthusiastically. He does a double take at the two people carrying a banner behind the desk officer. "I need to wish Ed a happy birthday." Scott turns his snort of laughter into a cough. 

"Oh my goodness, sir. Come with me, that was amazing." Roger gets up and begins to lead them deeper into the station. He stops before a door, "here we go. Oh and don't call him Ed." 

Scott and Stiles exchange a glance. The plaque on the door states Deputy Commissioner Edward Grimsby. Roger knocks then opens the door. "I'm sorry to bother you sir, but these gentlemen are from America. This is Mister Stiles Stilinski, a psychic with the police and-" 

"Ed!" Stiles pushes into the room. "Happy birthday, man." 

The Deputy Commissioner glances up from his desk, he's a sour looking old man. The frown on his faces deepens as he takes in Stiles, Scott and Roger. "What do you want?"

"I'm here because I sense that I'm going to be needed." 

"Peter Hale is wanted by Interpol and their intelligence officers inform us that he is currently in Milan." 

Pursing his lips, Stiles shakes his head. "Nope, no, definitely not Milan. I'm telling you, dude. Peter Hale is not only _not_ in Milan, he is very much in Canada."   
Stiles slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his business card. "Here. For when you need me." He puts it on the desk and heads back out, grabbing Scott by the elbow as they go. Roger shrugs helplessly at him. 

"We're just gonna leave?" Scott exclaims. 

"Yep." Stiles grimaces. "They'll call though."

*

Sure enough the next morning Stiles gets a phone call from Deputy Commissioner Grimsby. After Stiles has hung up, he leaves wakes Scott by throwing a shoe at his face. Scott flails and sits up. "Wha- oh my god. Stiles." 

"Get up. Ed just called. Peter Hale's struck." 

Scott gapes. 

Stiles grins. 

They rush to get dressed and are at the crime scene within half an hour. It's a high rise building, the top floor is an exclusive gallery. An emerald and pearl necklace worth two hundred thousand dollars has been taken off it's stand in a glass case. 

There are no fingerprints on the glass, it's still intact. No alarms were triggered. And there, on the desk is a still burning Merchanteuse Blonde cigarette, Peter Hale's signature. 

Stiles glances around If it's still burning and only at the tip he's got to be nearby. There are no obvious places from him to hide. As Stiles is looking up at the ceiling, he notices a piece of fabric on a painting fluttering. A window is cracked open, Stiles rushes over and sticks his head out, looking down all he can see is the street but looking up Stiles sees a black, polished loafer disappearing over the edge. 

With a wiggle, Stiles puts a hand to his temple. "I'm sensing that if you want to catch Peter Hale you'll need to go to the roof." He doesn't wait for anything else just runs out the door and up the stairs, Scott following on his heels. 

They burst through the door and there, dressed all in black, with a bag over his shoulder is Peter Hale. He looks grudgingly impressed with them. "Good morning gentlemen."

"Peter Hale." 

That damned eyebrow quirks again. "Yes?" 

"You're under arrest." Scott says firmly. 

Hale studies them for a long moment before he laughs. "That's quite amusing. However neither of you have the ability or jurisdiction to arrest me." 

Stiles takes a step closer. Hale doesn't move, he does shift his gaze to focus solely on Stiles. "You have something that doesn't belong to you." Stiles says steadily. 

"I'm holding on to it for a friend." Hale smirks, he looks even more smug than normal. "I have to say I am impressed, after your obvious display yesterday I did think it was going to be easy to outwit you. Perhaps, Stiles, you're going to be more entertaining to me than I originally assumed." 

"I think that was a compliment." Stiles grins. 

Hale steps back onto the ledge, he barely glances over his shoulder. "Indeed not, Stiles. It was a distraction. I'm going home now." And with that he doesn't even turn before he jumps off the building. Scott lets out a yelp and they both rush to the edge to see Hale gliding away on the wind with a special winged suit. 

Behind them Stiles can hear the footsteps of the Canadian police coming up the stairs and onto the roof. He leans heavily against the ledge, whispering to Scott "he's so cool." 

Scott scoffs derisively. Stiles sighs, he's going to have to find an explanation for these cops that explains everything because Hale jumping off and disappearing, once again, leaving Stiles (and Scott) to look like idiots and the police to doubt if Hale was ever there. 

*

That evening, feeling annoyed, Stiles and Scott head to a high-priced restaurant for dinner. It's dimly lit, and they're seated at a table towards the middle of the floor. 

"Stiles," Scott hisses after they've been handed their menus. "They've got cloth napkins here." 

"I did notice." Stiles answers wryly without looking up from his menu. When he does, though, a few minutes later he freezes. There sitting in the spare seat between Stiles and Scott is Peter Hale, he's holding a glass of whiskey and looking for all the world as though he belongs there and isn't a wanted criminal. 

"Uh." 

"I saw you as I was treating myself to a glass of the finest, and thought I would come across to say hello." Hale practically purrs. He tips his head slightly, "that. And to inform you, gentlemen, that you're out of your league." Hale seems to be addressing both of them but his gaze never leaves Stiles' face. He's dismissed Scott as a non-entity. "You're never going to catch me." 

"You seem very sure of that." 

"I am." Hale grins smugly, he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

"Are you the psychic now?" Scott interrupts. Stiles flails a little, he'd been so caught up in Peter Hale's magnificent _everything_ that he'd kind of forgotten about him. 

Hale laughs, it's deep and rich. Stiles is captivated. Drowning his whiskey Hale puts the glass on the table top. "I've ever been _close_ to being caught before. I tell you what." He pulls a pen out of his pocket, along with a notebook. Stiles watches his big hands and sure fingers as he pulls a page out and begins to write. "I'm going to write down everything that I will do while I'm in town. Make things a little more interesting for myself. One, grab a Manet. Two, make you two look foolish-" he glances up with a sharp smirk. "And three, treat myself like a king." 

Stiles is watching closely as Hale caps the fancy pen, slide it (and the notebook) into his pocket before he holds the page out for Stiles to take. It's a small page and the tips of their fingers brush when Stiles goes to take it. Hale's fingers are overly and warm and sear like a brand against Stiles' skin. 

Across the room a table cheers when a flaming dessert is brought out to them. When Stiles looks back from the distraction Hale has gone, again. Scott is craning his neck as he looks all around to try and spot him. There's not a wrinkle in the tablecloth, chair tucked neatly under the table, even the whiskey glass has been removed. The only proof Stiles has that Hale was here at all is the page in his hand. 

"My god he's good." Stiles can't help but be impressed. 

* 

Of course, they do the right thing and go back to the police. Stiles seems to have a little bit of support from them, they find that the only Manet in town is on yacht belonging to some European dude. 

Stiles and Scott are hiding in the shadows behind some crates on the dock with Roger. While boat is surrounded with police all waiting for Hale to make his appearance, so they can catch him in the act. 

"Who does this boat belong to again?" Scott asks as he peers over the crate at it. 

"William Oliver. Billionaire." Stiles whispers back.

"Millionaire." Roger corrects just as quietly. "Former billionaire, currently millionaire." 

Stiles files that information away. In the distance there's a shadow moving along the dock away from the boat, the police swarm in only to find it's a dockworker. The Deputy Commissioner sends a glance full of frustration at Stiles and Scott. Roger hurries away from them. 

"Get inside that boat." Ed shouts, pointing a finger. 

"Don't bother." Stiles sighs. He's seen through the window the Manet is gone. Hale got in and out right under their noses. 

"Come on," Scott grabs Stiles' sleeve. "Let's go." He leads Stiles away from the docks and the disappointed and annoyed Canadian police. On their way back to their hotel, Stiles stops. "Stiles?"

"You go on. I'm going to take a walk." 

"Stiles." 

He gives Scott a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, I promise." When Scott hesitates, Stiles says "I just got think." 

Scott frowns at him "I've got my phone if you need me." 

They share a nod before Scott heads down the quiet street in the direction of their hotel, Stiles takes a right and walks through a park. As he walks he looks at the trees, the ground, the stars nothing is working. He keeps seeing Peter Hale's arrogant, handsome face in his head and it bugs him. Stiles scrubs a hand over his hair. 

As he's walking Stiles finds himself coming out of nature and hitting the buildings. There's something about one of the buildings that makes Stiles stop and think. It's got a distinctive roof shape, like 'C' against the skyline. He's seen it before. Hale had barely glanced at it when before he jumped of the roof. Stiles had thought he was looking down, but now he's sure it wasn't that. Hale was subconsciously giving information away. 

Feeling victorious and determined, Stiles breaks into a run. He gets to the building in minutes. It's a hotel and too easy to slip inside the lift. Stiles goes all the way to the top because Peter Hale is arrogant enough to rent the Penthouse suite under a pseudonym while robbing the citizens of this fair city. 

There's a maid's cart in the hallway and he's able to swipe he card to break into Hale's room. It's dark and Stiles grins to himself, he's got one up on Hale. Finally. He still creeps across the floor to the wardrobe, where Stiles rifles through the clothes and bags to find the necklace or the Manet. 

Then, the room is lit and Stiles pauses, cursing himself in his head. He turns very slowly to see Hale sitting in a chair, hand withdrawing from the lamp next to him watching Stiles with an amused expression. Stiles mentally backtracks, perhaps that subconscious glance wasn't so subconscious after all.

Hale smoothly, powerfully, lifts himself out of his chair. He's all muscle and Stiles can't help but be attracted to it. Hale's eyes narrow a little and brings his body close enough to Stiles' that they press against each other as brings an arm up to pull his suitcase down. He stays pressed against Stiles for a moment longer. 

"You got further than I thought. Congratulations Stiles." Hale smirks at him. 

Stiles narrows his eyes. Hale is packing his suitcase calmly, it's not stacking up. His eyes catch on a piece of paper but he doesn't let them linger for fear that Hale will know Stiles is on to him. "You're good. And you're so damned cool, man. But you got me beat."

"Indeed." Hale pauses and angles his body in Stiles' direction. "I don't leave until tomorrow. Would you like to keep me company tonight?" 

"I- what?" 

Hale smirks, arms folded across his chest. He's broad in the chest, with enough chest hair on display that Stiles wants to sink his fingers into. "Sex, Stiles. Would you like to have sex with me?" 

"I don't sleep with men that have douchebag goatees." Stiles says. He makes his way to the door. "I'll get you next time, Hale." 

The piercing blue eyes follow him, but otherwise Hale hasn't moved a muscle. "Call me Peter." Stiles shakes his head in disbelief. Hale - Peter - calls out to him just before he shuts the door. "Stiles." Stiles pauses to show he's listening. "Next time I won't have the goatee." Hale looks smug as ever, Stiles shuts the door then thumps back against it. 

"Fuck." He whispers fiercely to himself before heading back to his hotel room to let Scott know what's going on. He might leave out the fact that Hale propositioned him though because Scott knows Stiles as well as Stiles knows himself. Scott will know exactly why Stiles said no to Hale, despite wanting to say yes.

*

Early in the morning, they're back at the police station. Roger, hurries over to them before he the doors fully close behind them. "No, no you cannot be here right now. Deputy Commissioner Grimsby is very angry with you two."

"Well, that's not fair." Stiles is affronted. "I was right." 

"We have intelligence saying that Hale is leaving this morning." Roger says, trying to shoo them out the door. "There's nothing more you can do." 

Stiles thinks back to the piece of paper he'd seen in Hale's room. A script for drying cleaning, for three days' time. Hale's going to be in the country until at least tomorrow. "You're wrong. He's going to steal something else. He's not leaving." 

Roger shakes his head regretfully. "Can you prove it?"

Lifting a hand to his temple Stiles stares into Roger's eyes. "I just know. The spirits feel very strongly about this. Roger please, it's going to be a crown."  
That makes Roger pause. "There's the Monarch Butterfly Crown behind held at the museum. It's the only crown." 

Scott tenses next to Stiles. He's obviously remembering the last line of the list Hale gave them. _Three, treat myself like a king._ Roger glances between the two of them. "You have to help us." Scott pleads.

"No. I'm sorry but I can't. My job's already on the line because of you two." Roger gives them a firm glare and hurries back to his desk. 

Stiles sighs, and pulls Scott out the police station. "Let's go to the museum." They go and look at the crown, Stiles takes notes of the security cameras and after an hour of wandering around they head outside for something to eat. 

"What's the plan, Stiles?" 

"We've got to steal the crown. Before Peter does." 

Scott frowns. " _Peter_?" 

"I... may not have told you everything that happened last night." Stiles admits quietly. 

Leaning in close, Scott gives him an earnest look. "Did you sleep with him?" 

"No!" Stiles shouts, he lowers his voice. "He offered though." 

"Seriously?" 

Stiles nods. "I said no." 

Reaching out Scott pats Stiles on the arm, "because you'd get your heart broken." 

"What? No. Because I wouldn't be objective. And I couldn't trust him not to knock me out or something." 

"Uh huh." Scott is not convinced. "You've always liked dangerous and pretty things Stiles. Peter Hale is like exactly your type. But you're hopelessly romantic, you'd fuck him and fall for him in one night. You're already enamoured with him as it is."

Stiles is saved from having to answer by his phone ringing. It's Roger. Scott watches him carefully throughout the conversation, but he doesn't saying anything more about Hale when Stiles hangs up. "Roger's going to help us. The police have no information that Hale actually left the country. He helped install the security system on the museum. He's going to help us take it down after it closes at five." 

For the rest of the day they plan what they're going to do and stakeout the museum. The curator comes out last at fourteen minutes past five carrying a wide briefcase. Roger meets them round the side of the building. The three of them crawl in through a broken (by Stiles' elbow) window that leads into a basement room. 

Roger goes to the powerbox and after the lights go down Stiles and Scott hurry through to where the crown is displayed. The case is empty. The cigarette is burning on top of it. "I don't get it." Scott says. "We've watched the museum all day, Hale hasn't been here. We would have seen him."

Stiles presses against the glass to get a closer look and an alarm blares. They're suddenly trapped because the security doors on the wing have fallen to the floor with multiple thuds. Soon enough the police come charging in with guns out. Scott and Stiles raise their arms. 

They're both arrested and taken back to the police station. As they're pushed towards the interrogation rooms, Stiles spots Roger packing his cat picture into a box along with other items. His shoulders are slumped. He's clearly been fired because he put his trust in Scott and Stiles and, once again they've come up empty handed and Hale slipped through their fingers like smoke. 

The Deputy Commissioner is furious when he faces them. "What were you thinking? I don't know what nonsense they let you get away with in America but this is Canada. We don't do that here!"

"Ed," Stiles holds up his hands and spreads them as much as the handcuffs allow him too. "We didn't steal the crown, it was gone by the time we got there. I don't know how he did it, Hale-"

"Enough!" Ed slams a hand down. "Enough about Hale." 

"But-" Scott starts to argue, he's cut off by a filthy look. 

"The crown is missing and the two of you were the ones we have proof of breaking in. Using my own damned officer!" 

Stiles starts to think quickly, he goes through everything he knows about Peter Hale in his head. It's always the perfect crime. It doesn't fit, "there's no such thing as the perfect crime, Stiles". Stiles' dad used to tell him that all the time when Stiles was a kid. "Oh. I know how he's doing it. I've figured it out. Ed, trust me, I can take you to him. I promise you will be able to arrest Peter Hale." 

Ed's lips form a thin line. 

"Here's the thing, Hale's crime scenes are always perfect because it's not a crime. Or at least not the crime we _think_ it is." Stiles goes on to explain. and two hours later he, and Scott, are out of handcuffs. 

*

The next morning Stiles leads Scott, Ed, Roger and a couple of other officers to a small dock where a seaplane is waiting. There putting his bags in the back is Peter Hale, he actually seems a little surprised. 

"Stiles," he greets with a smirk. Eyes lingering before moving over the others. "And you brought friends." 

"I'm so disappointed in you. You were so great, man." Stiles steps closer. "You were the greatest thief that ever lived." Peter preens a bit at that. 

"But you're not." Stiles sighs, "you're not even a thief. Man, I was rooting for you." 

"Stiles!" Scott admonishes. 

"Right." Stiles grins at Peter. "You're so good because you enver actually steal anything. It's fraud, insurance fraud. The owners are having financial problems and they just hand the goods over to you. they or you light the cigarette after they've called the police and then you sell them on the black market. But you never stole anything." Stiles shakes his head as Ed moves forward to cuff him. "I'm so ashamed of you, it's like finding out Santa isn't real all over again." 

Peter never takes his eyes off Stiles, as he's cuffed, he seems to be frowning. Just a little. It's like he's not happy that Stiles is so disappointed in him. But he doesn't say anything just lets himself get led away. 

Stiles watches him go. He knows it's over but it doesn't feel like it is, or maybe more accurately Stiles doesn't _want_ it to be.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a series with a least one other part that's currently being written. 
> 
> EDIT: part two is written and posted!
> 
> [I'm on tumblr.](https://cathcer1984.tumblr.com/)


End file.
